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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28744029">The Job</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/indyluckycharlie/pseuds/indyluckycharlie'>indyluckycharlie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Series [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:00:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28744029</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/indyluckycharlie/pseuds/indyluckycharlie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve sends the reader and Bucky out on a job unaware of recent developments in your relationship. The reader decides that this is a good opportunity to explore something Bucky's never tried before.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Series [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Job</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was one of the first pieces of smut that I ever wrote (and previously posted to Tumblr under the same user name), and I realized retroactively that I switch perspective a bit, so my apologies if it gives you whiplash. </p><p>I'm not totally sure what possessed me when I wrote this one, but I thought it was a fun idea and I had fun writing it. I hope you enjoy too.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><hr/><p>“Can I see those numbers again?” He asks as he leans into your shoulder to get a better look. You tilt the device in his direction until he nods his thanks. He returns his attention to the half-constructed office suite around you, as do you. </p><p> </p><p>The job Steve assigned the two of you was easy enough, scout out a location for a set-up with a small time weapons dealer. Somewhere quiet, where citizens won’t be in danger, but not so isolated as to make your mark suspicious. Situated at the far end of a strip mall-style office complex, the double sized suite was in the process of being renovated for new renters. The only people in and out were the construction workers, and they’d be well gone by the time of the planned exchange. Even now, while the crew was on their lunch break at the chain restaurant across the way, the space was completely empty. </p><p> </p><p>Though the dimensions are on the display in front of you, you pace around anyways to get a better feel for the actual space, all the while running possible scenarios through your head and rechecking sight lines and exits. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that he does the same. You are alike in that way. Tech is great, but getting a tangible feel for a space is much better. You wonder if this shared preference for the tactile is part of why the two of you <em> get along </em> so well. </p><p> </p><p>You also wonder if Steve would have sent you on this job together if he knew about your recent activities. Not that it would matter much. While some might find it difficult to work together given the circumstances, neither of you are particularly phased by it. You’ve both been in this line of work long enough that it is simply natural to separate your personal lives from your work when you’re on the job. Off hours, your relationship may have taken a new and very intimate turn, but on the clock, you’re teammates who find it both easy and natural to fall into the professional rhythms of work without collapsing into nervous giggling fits. Even if you have seen each other naked and are intimately familiar with the noises you each make when you come. </p><p> </p><p>“What do you think?” He asks after several minutes.</p><p> </p><p>“I think it will work. The whole complex will be deserted after dark. The only place seeing any action that late would be the Chili’s and that’s, what? A quarter of a mile away? Shouldn’t be an issue.”</p><p> </p><p>“I agree. I’m gonna call Steve, fill him in on our findings.”</p><p> </p><p>You nod. </p><p> </p><p>Hopping up on a pallet of commercial grade tiles, you watch him as he makes the call. With your job nearly done, you let your professionalism relax a little. A crooked smile curves your lips as you admire the street clothes he chose for this particular task. Dark jeans, a supple, but fitted leather jacket, and plain t-shirt. It’s simple, but he wears it well. You’ve always liked the way he dresses, which is surprisingly fashionable for someone his age, but you’ve developed an increased appreciation for his clothes, now that you’ve had a much closer look at what’s underneath them. </p><p> </p><p>It had all been playful banter and cheeky innuendo until one heated night of training turned into something else. Sweaty and laughing and both unwilling to concede defeat, a little bit of light exercise had progressed into a two hour long sparring session, until finally he had you pinned but not totally subdued. He held your arms secure to the mat, while you squeezed his lungs with your thighs wrapped tightly around his chest. </p><p> </p><p>Seizing on the perfect opportunity, you made a racy joke. He reciprocated and you both started laughing. And then... somehow, you were kissing. </p><p> </p><p>Even now you could not say for sure how it happened or who had kissed who first. Depending on your mood and whatever argument you were trying to win, you would sometimes claim it was you, other times you would insist it was him. All you could say for sure was that it set something inside of you on fire in a way you had not known in a long time. </p><p> </p><p>You didn’t even have sex that first time. After what surely was an eternity of tangled limbs and wandering hands, you broke apart, both wide eyed and panting. Surprised and sheepish, you laughed it off and agreed that it must have been some insanity combined with the lateness of the hour that had compelled you. In silent agreement that you wouldn’t talk about it again, you escaped to your own rooms, where cold showers did little to extinguish the fire you’d started or to keep your hands from offering you the release you both so suddenly and desperately needed. </p><p> </p><p>Six days of acting like everything was normal before you could no longer ignore the new insomnia that had settled itself into your life. An insomnia that smelled suspiciously like his cologne, tasted suspiciously like his lips, felt suspiciously like his hands sliding under your shirt. Six days of restless nights, of heat laced dreams and thighs pressed tight beneath your sheets before you found yourself knocking on his door. </p><p> </p><p>Even at 2 am, he opened his door almost immediately. You could tell from his mussed hair and half wild eyes that the same insomnia that had been plaguing you had been plaguing him. In a heartbeat, he wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you into the room, pressing you first against his chest and then against the wall. </p><p> </p><p>All of your expectation was not wasted because he did not disappoint. With an intuition that bordered on clairvoyant, he seemed to know <em>exactly</em> what you liked. And in the two weeks that followed- despite his assertion that he was “rusty”- you found that you were more satisfied and more insatiable than you’d ever been before. Which made it all the more surprising that, due to the comparatively repressed period in which he grew up, as well as the nature of his previous sexual encounters, there were a number of things he simply hadn’t experienced before. </p><p> </p><p>Though you hadn’t told him, it was a situation that you were determined to rectify. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, the space should work. There are several exits, but we can barricade the ones we need to and maneuver them in the way we want them.” His voice breaks into your thoughts. He pauses, listening to Rogers on the other end of the line. “Yeah, sight lines are good.” He pauses again, then nods his head. “Okay, good.” </p><p> </p><p>He hangs up then turns back to you. “Being Steve, he wants to see the scans you took, but he seems to agree with us that the set-up should work pretty well.”</p><p> </p><p>“Great. Does he need anything else from us?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, he said we could head back.”</p><p> </p><p>“So... we’re off the clock?”</p><p> </p><p>“Seems that way.”</p><p> </p><p>Though you nod, your hum is noncommittal.</p><p> </p><p>He gives you a questioning look. “You think we’re forgetting something?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmm?” You blink your eyes back to focus. “No, no, that’s not it.”</p><p> </p><p>You say no more, so he turns to the exit, but stops again when he realizes you’ve made no move to follow him out.</p><p> </p><p>“What is it?”</p><p> </p><p>Finally, you turn to him and hold his eyes. “You trust me, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” His confusion only deepens.</p><p> </p><p>“I said you trust me, right?” </p><p> </p><p>Unsure of where you’re going with this, he searches your eyes. It’s been a long time since his natural inclination has been to trust, but for some reason, it comes easily with you. Still, your vagueness makes him cautious. Slowly, he nods. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes. What are you thinking?”</p><p> </p><p>As pleased as the proverbial cat with the canary, you smile brightly. You take three long strides in his direction. As he turns to meet you, he finds himself caught between you and a wall. “Take off your jacket.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Eyebrow cocked and hand held out, you say nothing. He takes a deep breath then shrugs his jacket off of his shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>Your smile deepens as he places it in your waiting hands. </p><p> </p><p>You fold it, then take a half step back before dropping it on the floor in front of his feet. He clucks his tongue and his brow creases in consternation, the floor is covered in construction dust. But his annoyance only lasts for a moment because now you’re reaching for the buckle at his waist. As you unthread the leather, your intent becomes clear and his eyebrows shoot up. </p><p> </p><p>Grabbing your wrists to still your actions, he looks around quickly. “Here?!” He asks in a whisper. </p><p> </p><p>You lean back, making an exaggerated show of looking around the completely empty space. Turning back, you level your gaze at him. “We haven’t seen a single other soul in the last 30 minutes, I doubt that anyone is going to wander in now.” He slowly releases your wrists and nods. With his permission to continue, you ease his zipper down. Your smile turns wicked. “I don’t think we need to worry about getting caught, but it would probably be best if you tried not to be too loud. I’m not sure how thick these walls are.”</p><p> </p><p>His brow quirks at the smugness in your tone. “Well, aren’t you awfully cocky?”</p><p> </p><p>Slipping your hand inside his pants and letting it rub along the length of him, you respond, “<em> You’re </em> awfully cocky.” </p><p> </p><p>Whether his groan is from your bad pun or the slight tightening of your fingers, it’s hard to say, but you like the sound of it either way.  </p><p> </p><p>You press a hard kiss to his lips, but before he can reciprocate, you’re pulling away again. He lets out a frustrated huff, but you offer only a mischievous half smile before giving him another quick squeeze and sinking to your knees. </p><p> </p><p>His eyes go wide. Turns out he had<em> not </em> fully grasped your intentions, and you chuckle at his obviously flustered expression. </p><p> </p><p>He opens his mouth, "You don't have to-" but you cut him off with a chastising look. </p><p> </p><p>“Of course I don’t have to. But I <em> want </em> to. Unless-” Your eyes turn searching and your tone serious, “-you don’t want me to?”</p><p> </p><p>He breathes deep. This isn’t really something girls in his day did. Naturally, he was curious, but it always seemed like the kind of thing other fellas were trying to manipulate their girls into doing because of the other things they wouldn’t do. He never wanted to be that kind of man. </p><p> </p><p>But this? This feels different. <em> You’re </em> different. He’s never known you to do something just to please anyone else.</p><p> </p><p>“If- if you’re sure…” he says hesitantly.</p><p> </p><p>You smile knowingly, nodding your head slowly and deliberately. “Oh. Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>He swallows hard and licks his lips. Just the idea alone has him feeling too warm all over and his hardness strains against the thin fabric of his undershorts. He wants it so much, much more than he’d ever be able to say out loud.</p><p> </p><p>You wait patiently, all hint of teasing gone as you let him decide what he wants. Finally, he nods and you let your lips curve upwards again. </p><p> </p><p>You hold his eye as you pull his pants further open, pushing the waist down just enough that they’re out of your way. You let your eyes flit down momentarily as you free him from his underwear. You hear him pull in a long breath, and your thighs twitch in answer to your own rising desire. Briefly, you press your legs together, telling yourself you’ll deal with your own situation later. For now, this is enough for you. </p><p> </p><p>You lock eyes with him once again, and you can tell that he’s nervous. His breathing has gone deep and wavers on the exhale. You telegraph reassurance with your eyes, as you gently run a long line with your fingers down his hard length and lightly cup the softer flesh below. With your index finger, you trace the thick vein back up from base to tip and hold him at the edge of your lips for just a moment. Then with a wink, you flick out your tongue, experimentally, and his sharp intake of breath is it’s own reward. </p><p> </p><p>Oh yes, this will do quite nicely.</p><p> </p><p>Abruptly, you pull him in, and with a groan, his head falls back, thumping hard against the wall. The ache isn’t enough- no, not nearly enough- to pull his attention away from you and what you’re doing to him. His whole world is suddenly focused on the space where your lips and hands take ownership of him. You are a singular force in all the world, and he lets himself fall into the sensation without fear. </p><p> </p><p>His eyes squeeze tight and stars bloom across his vision as you do your work, sometimes enveloping him completely, other times offering brief licks and kisses, all in perfect contrast, all in perfect tandem with your gentle but firm hands. And then the hard edge of teeth applied so delicately and <em> oh </em> ! Oh, he did not <em> know </em>, never understood but oh, if it isn't perfect. </p><p> </p><p>His breathing turns ragged, rapid and dizzying. His hands clench at his side. He doesn’t even know what to do with them, how to ground himself. As if sensing that he’s coming unmoored and without breaking that tantalizing rhythm of yours, you reach up one hand and lace your fingers with his, keeping him half on earth with you. </p><p> </p><p>Heat and pressure surge through him. And like a wave moving towards the shore, they build as they go. You seem to know just how to stoke that wave to an impossibly high crest, while miraculously keeping him riding just along the edge. Torn, he both begs for it to hold off, while desperately hoping that it will break. A whimper slips from his lips. </p><p> </p><p>And when that rolling wave can't hold any more, and he comes crashing down- spilling, he knows not where- the sound that he makes is so primal, it’s the perfect compliment of your work. From somewhere in the vicinity of heaven, he hears your chuckle and he thinks only that you have every right to your smugness. </p><p> </p><p>You guide his hand to your shoulder, giving him something to hold onto, before slipping your hand away. He grips tightly at the fabric as the residual waves fade slowly. Breathing hard, with eyes squeezed shut and ears abuzz, he’s vaguely aware that you’re putting his clothes back in order. </p><p> </p><p>When you stand, he grabs for your hips and pulls you roughly against him. Burying his face against your shoulder, he hears your warm chuckle in his ear.</p><p> </p><p>“So...? Good then?”</p><p> </p><p>A hoarse laugh rasps from his throat. He pulls back to look in your face. “Yeah, you could say that.”</p><p> </p><p>You smile smugly. You dart in for a quick peck. “Good.”</p><p> </p><p>His gaze flicks down sheepishly for a moment before returning to yours. “You know, I’ve never…”</p><p> </p><p>“Done that?” You ask softly. He nods. “I know.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know?” His cheeks flame red as his brows shoot up into his hairline. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Sensing his embarrassment, you run a hand soothingly down his chest and offer a reassuring smile. “Do you remember when we played ‘Never Have I Ever’ that time with the team? Well, you were being <em> very </em> sly about the whole thing, but I noticed there were a few times you didn’t drink.”</p><p> </p><p>With a groan, he drops his head to your shoulder. You scratch calming fingers through his hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, I think most everyone else was too drunk to notice. Besides,” cupping your hands on both sides up his face, you force his head up so you can look in his eyes, “you don’t need to be embarrassed. With sex there is no ‘should,’ there’s only ‘want’ or ‘don’t want.’” </p><p> </p><p>He examines you for a moment before nodding. </p><p> </p><p>“Since we’re talking about it, if there are other ‘wants’ that you’ve not had a chance to try out, I’d be <em> more </em> than willing to explore them with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>Hands still on your hips, he pushes himself off the wall and turns you so that your back is pressed where his had once been. Leaning into you, he nudges his knee between yours.</p><p> </p><p>“So, what if I was curious about sex in a-” he lifts his head to look around- “half-constructed office space? Would that be of interest to you?”</p><p> </p><p>“My that is oddly specific,” your laugh turns into a low moan, as he presses his thigh against you. Your voice comes out breathy now. “Consider me interested.” </p><p> </p><p>A shiver runs up your spine as he dips his head low, grinning that salacious smile. </p><p> </p><p>He jolts back as a loud bang echoes through the space, forcing you- rather rudely- to break apart. </p><p> </p><p>He swears as the voices of the construction crew soon follow, drifting towards you from the back of the building.</p><p> </p><p>You jut your lip out in a playful pout. “I suppose we’ll have to put a raincheck on that one.”</p><p> </p><p>He huffs an annoyed sound, before leaning in again. </p><p> </p><p>“When exactly do you think I might be able to cash in on that raincheck?”</p><p> </p><p>Tilting your head back so that he can feel the heat of your breath. “Well, it looks like we might have the afternoon free. The compound isn’t exactly a half-constructed office space, but I’m sure we can make do.” </p><p> </p><p>With a crooked smile, he brushes his lips against yours. But again, he pulls back too soon as the construction workers’ voices reach your ears a second time, this time much closer. </p><p> </p><p>Annoyed, he whispers, “We should get out of here.”</p><p> </p><p>You nod. Grabbing you by the hand, he makes for the exit.  </p><p> </p><p>Once you’ve made your way to the car, you stop him as he pulls out the keys. </p><p> </p><p>“Let me drive.” </p><p> </p><p>“Why?” He asks as he drops the keys into your outstretched hands. </p><p> </p><p>“I have a job for you.” You say as you pull open the door and slide in. </p><p> </p><p>His brow wrinkles curiously. Once he’s in the passenger seat, he asks, “What kind of job?”</p><p> </p><p>Instead of answering, you lean across him to pop open the glove box and reach inside. You pull out a notebook and pen, which you toss into his lap before closing the box again. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s this for?”</p><p> </p><p>You sit up, then start the car and shift into gear. “A list.”</p><p> </p><p>“A list?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” you look at him meaningfully, “a <em> list </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>After a heartbeat, his eyes widen in understanding and you turn your attention back to driving. </p><p> </p><p>He says nothing, but as you pull out of the parking lot, you hear the sound of pen scratching against the paper and smile.</p><p>
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